Plain sight cannot deny a truth without camouflage, your subtle brushstrokes never relying on memory hidden within the ebb and flow of life, always open to the new as it unfolds, willing an insight of what may be repeated, though never taken for granted. In chords that stroke the soul, I have seen your true self.
This poem is inspired by The Quiet Places, by Stephen Tanham. Please read the original. It’s a short read, and the source of the photo.
“ Imagine that each of us is a lighthouse, and our beams of light
rotate, not to be seen by ships at sea, but to light up a landscape
that is our world. Our brains assemble the flickering images
and create something apparently seamless – our lives – from
what is seen. Things that are dangerous or very beautiful require
us to spend time studying the landscape so that we can spot their patterns in the future.”
There is no seat to knowledge, yet
it surrounds us, always within reach,
always in motion. Divided, it multiplies,
its rate of change and acceleration
variables subject to perception and acquisition,
on a scale that is limitless, with a formula
that keeps us searching for more.